


Only This Remains

by Mouse9



Series: Always 1895 [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1895, Crossdressing, F/M, Victorian, hints of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 20:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/pseuds/Mouse9
Summary: Day seven of Sherlolly Appreciation Week- I love you sceneSherlolly, but make it Victorian.CW: blood, threats of violence, homophobia, Victorian slurs
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: Always 1895 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2205948
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67
Collections: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2021





	Only This Remains

_What is the worst thing you can say to a person?_

_The Truth._

Culverton Smith, Landowner, businessman, member of the House of Lords and London’s second prolific serial killer since the last decade and Bloody Jack stood in the House of Lords at the raised platform that held the throne. 

Holmes, after his last stint with Smith, had healed and was back out on the streets, tracking down the powerful man and gathering evidence along the way. Finally, he had garnered enough evidence that even Scotland Yard couldn’t turn a blind eye anymore and the assistance of Mycroft Holmes needed to be brought in. Mr. Smith was rich, powerful, and without the elder Holmes to bring validity to their claims, the Met would have been stopped in their tracks. 

Smith, knowing his time was running out, led them on a merry chase throughout London, ending at the House of Lords where they found him standing before the throne addressing the affronted and astonished members. Behind him, sitting on the throne bound and gagged, was Dr. Hooper. 

The four men, Watson, Lestrade, and the Holmes brothers came to a halt just inside the large room and almost as one, the members turned to look at the men. 

“Holmes?” An older Lord croaked from his seat closer to the front. “What is the meaning of this? Smith insists he has evidence that your brother is a traitor to the Crown?”

Mycroft lowered his substantial bulk into a semblance of a bow but before he could say a word, Smith began speaking over the din.

“Come in! Come in and face your trial Mr. Holmes. How fortuitous you have brought along Scotland Yard’s finest to witness your downfall. I submit to you, honorable Lords of this house, that Holmes the Younger is not only a traitor to the Crown but also a sodomite.”

The murmurs in the large room grew louder with a hint of scandalous outrage and disbelief. Even speaking the word in accusation to another man was enough at that time to ruin anyone, even someone with the force of the British Government at his back. 

“Holmes.” Watson’s voice was low and wary. “He means to destroy your reputation so your word will mean nothing if you accuse him.”

“I am aware, Watson.” Holmes returned, his gaze still on Smith and Hooper just behind him.

“You are treading in deep waters, brother mine.” Mycroft added. “Have a care.”

Sherlock took a step forward, his expression showing nothing. Smith, gleeful that he had the upper hand, grabbed Hooper and drug him from the chair to the front of him, a large knife brandished to the young doctor’s throat. A horrified gasp echoed throughout the chamber. 

“What’s the worst thing you can say to a person?” Smith challenged mockingly. Slowly, Holmes continued walking through the rows of benches, feeling the eyes of all of the members on him. 

“It is the truth,” Smith continued. “Because once you say it, you cannot take it back. And what better place to speak your truth, Holmes, than here, where the cornerstone of the Empire can hear your weakness.”

“And what is your weakness Smith?” Holmes countered. “Cutting up young women in alleyways? You aren’t even as skilled as Jack the Ripper was. That was finesse. The man was never caught whereas you…” he smiled dryly. “Easy as an afternoon walk.”

Before Smith, Hooper’s chin was raised high, hands bound before him. Holmes could see the doctor twisting and tugging at the rope but said nothing. The knife pushed a little harder and for a moment Hooper stopped moving, as did Holmes. Smith cackled with delight. 

“They say confession is good for the soul Holmes, so go on, confess. Tell the good doctor here your true feelings for him.” The knife went deeper, and Hooper made a noise. A drop of blood spilled over the knife and onto the white neckcloth of Hooper’s shirt instantly staining it red. 

“Stop.” Holmes said, eyes wide. “My speaking anything is going to be seen as under duress, spoken to save the life of a colleague. Your witnesses can attest to that and this entire attempt at blackmail will be null.”

‘Perhaps, but there will always be that one person in this room. The one who will idly speak of it over their breakfast to a wife or a brother, who will then tell someone else who will tell someone else and by the end of the week, the idea that you are a sodomite will permeate London and that…will be the end of the great Sherlock Holmes.” His grin was truly evil. “Even now, everyone here saw your hesitance when I drew first blood. Impressions are being made. Given that I have a witness who can attest that they spotted you and your rent boy in the halls of Bart’s morgue some months ago kissing is just more fire for the flames of rumor.

Hooper’s eyes closed and Holmes took another step.

“You have two choices,” Smith continued. “Speak your truth and damn yourself, or I cut your doctor’s throat right here and now and suffer the inconvenience of a slap on the wrist. The doctor no one of any importance, and I will have saved London from the hands of a dangerous sodomite. I will be seen as a hero.”

“If the doctor is no one of any importance, I should wonder why you would bother to sully your hands with murder. Because that’s what it will be, Smith, murder.”

Smith hissed. “Because it will hurt you.” The blade moved and another drop of blood fell onto the white shirt, followed by a muffled grunt from Hooper. Holmes stepped forward. 

“Stop!”

“Don’t you dare!” Hooper grunted then cried out as the blade went deeper.

“Shut up, guttersnipe!”

Holmes focused on Hooper’s face, brown eyes large and pleading. “I…”

Hooper’s expression all but begged him not to speak but he pushed past that. He’d been selfish long enough, especially when it came to them. If his reputation stained would pay for Hooper’s continued life, he would gladly pay it, tenfold. 

“I love you.” He said, his voice cracking at the end. Over the shouts and horrified gasps, he repeated his words. “I love you. I have for quite some time. You deserve someone better than me, Hooper, you always have.”

The blade retracted and Hooper fell to his knees as Smith laughed in triumph. 

“You’ve lost Holmes. Your word means nothing anymore, not to anyone who will matter. Your petty accusations will fall upon deaf ears!”

Hooper had loosed the ropes and crawled away from Smith as he crowed. “You are a damned fool.” 

Smith stopped for a moment, his triumph still on his face. “And who are you that I should take your words? A guttersnipe who drug his way up from the slums to retain a position cutting into the dead? You’re no better than he is.”

“A fool.” Hooper repeated, climbing to his feet. The shirt and jacket were slowly turning the color of rust. “If you think Holmes is anything but a good man. He is no more a sodomite than you or Dr. Watson.”

It was Holmes’ turn to warn. “Hooper. Don’t.”

Hooper ignored him. “And I will not stand by and allow an innocent man’s reputation be tarnished by a serial killer who enjoys cutting up innocent women.”

“You are nothing!” Smith shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. 

“I am the person who found your fingermarks on your last victim. I am the person who found hair and skin under the victim’s fingernails,”

“Hooper…”

“Enough skin that I believe if you were checked, three long gouge marks would be found on your body.”

“You are a perversion.”

“Perhaps. But I am not a sodomite.” Hooper’s hand came up to pull off the mustache. Another shocked gasp rose in the hall and Holmes’ pleas were drown out as the wig came off as well and Hooper shook out her long hair.

“I am also the only woman to survive you.” She stated. Smith’s eyes widened in fury and he stepped towards her knife raised. 

Two gunshot rang out in the large room and the Lords ducked and shouted. Smith fell back with a curse, the knife falling from his hand. During the interaction between Smith and Holmes, both Watson and Lestrade had crept around the back of the large room, creeping closer to stop Smith should he actually attempt to slice the throat of the doctor. Holmes grabbed Hooper and pulled her away as the two men converged on Smith. The guards of the House came in as well, to assist Lestrade in clapping of irons.

The swell of outrage was loud in the room for now that the threat of violence was passed, the men turned their attention to the affront of a woman in men’s clothing standing in their midst. Watson approached them, eyeing the angry men warily. 

“Perhaps we should get Dr. Hooper out of here?” he suggested, then looked at Molly, hair fallen around her shoulders. “Your wound needs taking care of as well.”

Mycroft sidled up to them as they tried to decide the best way to make an escape. “Best to escort Dr. Hooper from here. There is a door on the side, just behind the chairs there that will lead you to an antechamber.” He looked to Molly, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Your bravery and assistance towards my brother, in all thing Dr. Hooper, has not gone unnoticed. You have my thanks.”

Under the cover of shouting, Holmes and Watson whisked Hooper from the inner chamber, leaving Mycroft there to stem the flood of vitriol towards what they saw as the new evil. Rumors of sodomy forgotten as the new evil, women masquerading as not only men but men in academic positions rushed to the forefront. 

Outside, Mary Watson, pale faced and sympathetic leaned out of a carriage holding the door open. She motioned to the three as they broke out into the dismal afternoon. If she was shocked at seeing Hooper without her mustache and wig, she said not a word. 

“Hurry! The coppers are on their way!”

Bundled in, a tap of a walking stick on the roof of the cab and the carriage was off melting into the streets of London like a ghost.

Inside the cab, Mary pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule and leaned in to Hooper. “What on Earth happened?” she asked as she pressed the cloth to the wound.

“Hooper ruined her reputation and risked her life to save mine.” Holmes snapped. 

“Hurts like the devil.” Hooper rasped and Watson rolled his eyes. 

“Damned fools, the pair of you.” He spoke. 

“Better than a lie that could ruin your own livelihood. I don’t matter, not compared to you.”

“Bollocks!”

“Holmes!”

Mary put a calming hand on her husband’s arm, watching the other two argue, eyes wide with surprise and eager excitement. 

“You matter Hooper, how many times must I tell you that.”

“I appreciate your attempt to save my life, but I assure you, I would’ve escaped.” Hooper insisted.

“I meant it.” Holmes said. Hooper froze and a soft gasp came from Mary followed by a soft cry of pain from John where his wife was gripping his arm much too tightly. Holmes kept his gaze focused on Hooper.

“What I said back there.” He continued as if there weren’t an audience. “I meant it. Every word. I do love you and you deserve someone a damned sight better than me.”

Hooper’s mouth opened but no words escaped. Those brown eyes watered with unshed tears and she shook her head. “I decide who I deserve Holmes and if I say I deserve you, then…that’s it”

Another quiet delighted gasp came from the other side of the cab. Holmes frowned. 

“What…”

“I’m saying I love you as well, you prat.” She laughed, wiping her face with her free hand. 

Watson cleared his throat. 

“Yes, well if we could-damnation Mary, kindly retract your claws, wife! If we could continue this at my office where I can tend to your wound and you will both be better supervised…”

“Very well, Watson. But one thing first.”

Mindless of the harrumph of Watson or the delighted cry of his wife, Holmes leaned in and, careful of her wound, kissed Molly Hooper, properly for the first time, and if he had a say, hopefully not the last. 


End file.
